


Organic Intellectuals

by theleaveswant



Series: The Strange Familiar [2]
Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anthropology, F/M, First Day of School, Flirting, Gen, Graduate School, IKEA, Internet, Jonathan Coulton - Freeform, Long-Distance Relationship, Moving, Multi, Pop Culture, Singing, Skype, chatty mofos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months after "The Familiar Strange", Steve's settling into life in a new department and a new city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Organic Intellectuals

Steve is humming when he gets back to his office—his office!—and sets his messenger bag down on the desk. He sorts out attendance sheets, waiting lists, presentation sign-up sheets, and leftover syllabi while he waits for his computer to wake up. The Skype icon chimes at him so he maximizes it, and breaks into a gargantuan, giddy smile when he sees who's hailing him.

“Hey!” he says when the video chat connects and Peggy smiles warmly back at him. “It's so good to see you! Ugh, I wish . . .” He growls and paws at the screen, frustrated that he can't reach right through it to touch her.

“Me too,” Peggy sighs, holding up her hands to cup the image of his face and tilting her head to look at him. “I know you're at work but I saw you come online and I just had to check in and ask how your first day of class is going.”

“I'm glad you did.” Steve puts his papers aside and pulls the laptop forward on the desk. “It's going great, I think. I just finished my first Intro lecture, and that went well enough. You know how it is, the first week; everyone's a little dazed, but by the end of the lesson we had some promising discussion starting. Thanks again for letting me use your notes, by the way, they're very helpful.”

“I'm glad, and glad to hear that you're settling in alright.”

“Yeah, everyone's been very welcoming.” He laughs. “You know Thor walked me to class today? Thor Odinson. Not, like, officially, but he offered to give me directions and then ended up just leading me all the way to the lecture hall, and I didn't even notice until we got there because we were talking the whole time.”

“That was sweet of him.” Peggy smiles, then chuckles. “Does he know he's an internet meme?”

“He does; he loves it. I'm pretty sure he lives to encourage it. I know he's got a camping mallet in his office with 'Mjolnir' written on it in white-out, and he definitely plays up the whole 'Professor Technoviking' thing with students.” As near as Steve can piece together, Odinson had first appeared in an example figure on a Facebook group dedicated to good-looking anthropologists, and then spun off into a running joke once someone from another school learned his name and concluded that he was in truth the legendary god of thunder, slumming it among mortals for a good belly laugh, before crashing through a handful of other pop culture references and winding up a moderately popular animal meme on Tumblr. “I'm still undecided about his hockey plan, but we'll see how much time I have once the season starts.”

Peggy nods and yawns. “And your apartment?”

Steve shrugs. “It's a cardboard death-maze at the moment, but I think it will be good once it has, y'know, furniture. Lonely without you, though.” They hadn't lived together, not technically; Steve had merely stayed with Peggy for the brief window between vacating his old apartment and actually leaving town, his last few weeks in New York. It was long enough, however, to get used to her quotidian routines and comfortable sharing her space in a way that he hadn't when they'd each had their own places. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, every day.” Peggy sighs again and leans on her elbow. “So does Hodge, I think. He keeps watching the door, waiting for you to come home. I'm sure he's very unimpressed right now that both of his people are out of the country.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve smiles, glancing at the strip of his desktop background visible outside the Skype window, filled with a picture of Peggy trying to look fierce but laughing as she holds her American bulldog, Hodge, in a wrestler's headlock. His heart flutters at Peggy's description of him as Hodge's other person, and of her apartment as 'home'. “Poor guy. I'm sure Chester's keeping him busy, though.” 

“I think that's a safe bet.”

Steve picks a piece of lint off the screen. “I wish I still had my bike. Then I could just pack up some books and a couple changes of clothes and ride down to visit you whenever I felt like it.”

Peggy laughs. “You'd be back and forth all the time. You'd never get your shoes off before you had to turn around and get back on the road.”

“Or I could just never leave.”

She clicks her tongue at him. “Well, look on the bright side: I'll be coming up to visit you in less than a month, and I'm sure that by the time I've left you'll be absolutely sick of me.”

“You're probably right,” Steve says, grinning. She'd already emailed him her flight details and he'd started looking into things they might do together while she was in town if they ever decided to leave his apartment, although it was taking his brain time to switch gears from counting the days since he'd last kissed her to counting them down until he'd kiss her again. “I'll do my best to get the place looking a bit more hospitable by—”

“Hey, Steve, are you coming to that meet'n'greet? 'Cause Happy says they're starting in like five minutes.”

Steve, startled, blinks rapidly up at Tony, hanging into the room from the doorframe. “Um.”

“Who's that?” Peggy asks, and Tony takes this as invitation to slide all the way into his office.

“Uh, that's Tony Stark,” Steve says as Tony glances curiously at Steve's neatly lined bookshelves while crossing around the desk to look over his shoulder at the screen. “Tony, this is my former supervisor Peggy Carter.”

“Dr. Carter.” Tony nods at Peggy, who waves at her camera. “Pleasure. How're you doing today?”

“Exhausted, Dr. Stark. Thank you for asking. I'm actually just on my way to bed.”

“Bed?” Tony looks at his watch. “Did you just pull an all-nighter?”

“Nearly,” Peggy says, and yawns again. “I'm in Sheffield at the moment, preparing for a conference, and I haven't quite managed to get over the jet lag.”

“Ah, well, in that case, I'll let you two finish up so that you can get some rest. Lovely to meet you, Dr. Carter, however briefly.” He puts his hands on Steve's shoulders and squeezes once, then tousles his hair roughly enough that Steve's head shakes. “You have an eye for quality, and I appreciate that. Sweet dreams. Steve.”

As soon as Tony's out of the office Steve sighs and slumps in his seat. “He knows.”

“What, about us?” Peggy asks. “That's alright, isn't it? I mean we're not exactly keeping secrets anymore.”

“No, but I think he know before.”

“Before you defended, you mean? Hm.” Peggy frowns. “Well, there's nothing anybody can do about that now. Though it would probably be less awkward for everyone if you'd start introducing me as your partner instead of your former supervisor.”

Steve gasps. “I didn't, did I? Oh, I'm . . . I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot. And I'm sorry for keeping you up and for letting all of that—I should have realized that you were in your pajamas.”

“It's fine,” Peggy says. “Don't worry about it. Now hurry up, it sounds like you're going to be late for a meeting.”

“Right, yeah. Welcoming reception for new graduate students. I should—I miss you.” Steve pouts at his laptop. “I wish you weren't so far away.”

“I know. Me too. Now go.”

“Twenty-six days,” he reminds her.

“Twenty-six days,” she agrees with a smile. “And we'll talk again sometime closer to the end of the week, yes? Ta, love.”

“Bye.” Steve kisses his fingertips and presses them to the screen before he ends the call and the program, and hurries down the hall to the seminar room.

He gets there in plenty of time, it turns out. Students are still milling and chatting at the lounge end of the room while faculty and support staff gather and set up on the side nearer the black board. He frowns and glances at Happy, wondering if he'd given Tony a false warning to trick him into arriving on time.

“New guy,” Dr. Banner greets him from the snack table as he empties a bag of something crumbly and green into an aluminum bowl. “Kale chip?”

“Uh, sure.” Steve politely reaches into the bowl.

“Ooh, kale.” Tony suddenly appears at Steve's elbow, placing a hand on Steve's back to steady himself while he scoops up an enormous handful of dried leaves dusted with some kind of yellow powder. “Yummy.”

Banner sets the bowl down on the table as Tony moves to stand perpendicular to them both. 

“You look confused,” Tony tells Steve around a mouthful of green mush. 

Steve shrugs. “For some reason I just didn't expect . . .” He nods at the bowl as he raises his hand to his mouth, then hums in appreciative surprise. He's tried kale before but never dehydrated, only steamed or sauteed, and this is actually pretty good. The powder tastes salty, not quite cheesy; Steve thinks it might be nutritional yeast.

“What, too wholesome?” Tony laughs. “Don't worry, as soon as we're done here I'll wash this down with like a whiskey and bacon cupcake.” He cocks his head at Dr. Banner, considering. “Is that a thing yet or do I have to invent it?”

“Sounds like a thing,” Banner says. 

“I've seen both bacon cupcakes and whiskey frosting,” Steve agrees. “I'm sure by now someone's tried to combine them.”

“If you come across a vegan version, let me know. I'll be happy to join you.” Banner smiles as he pours hot tea into a reusable travel mug.

“Excellent. Speaking of joining: Steve!” Tony aims a finger at him.

“Yes?”

“What're your plans after this little shindig lets out, hm? Care to help us ring in the new school year? I'd like to buy you a drink in honour of your appointment, if that's alright, and I'm probably not the only one.”

“At the faculty club?” Steve asks, helping himself to another handful of kale chips.

“Oh fuck, no.” Tony looks aghast, then concerned. “Are you really that unhappy here?”

“No, I—what?” Steve shakes his head, lost.

“The faculty club is where staff go to sob into their sherry, alone,” Banner explains, “while the majority of social and celebratory drinking and carousing happens in the grad union pub.”

Tony nods enthusiastically. “The club might have slightly more ambitious food and they do mixed drinks, but it's a dismal place. You didn't pick up on that the day you interviewed?”

Steve casts his mind back four months to his first trip to the city, specifically to the lunch the department had arranged as a chance for him to chat with representatives of the grad and undergrad student bodies, supervised by Dr. Romanova but outside of the interview proper. “I guess I was a little preoccupied.”

Tony hums. “Well, take it from me. More joy and inspiration transpire over a soggy burrito and a pint of local lager in the grad pub in one day than happen in that musty old cavern in an entire semester. I've tracked it.”

Banner snorts into his mug. 

“I'd be happy to come with you to check out the pub,” Steve says, “but I can't stay very long. I've got to be home to receive a delivery.”

“Oh, phooey,” Tony grimaces. “Rain check, then.”

Banner nods. “What's the delivery, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Just a couple of bookshelves. I'm still trying to get things sorted out with my apartment, furniture and all that. Been trying to find used stuff as much as I can, from craigslist and thrift stores and whatever, but it's really difficult when I don't have access to a car to go pick things up.”

“Rent one? Or Coulson's got a minivan,” Tony suggests. “You could try borrowing that in exchange for a stint of childcare sometime.”

“I've done that,” Banner agrees.

Tony grins. “So you know he's not picky about babysitters.” 

Banner rolls his eyes.

Steve purses his lips, considering. “Do you think I'd be able to borrow Coulson, too? As a driver? I've actually only got a motorcycle license.”

“Couldn't hurt to ask,” Bruce says over Tony's narrow-eyed grunt.

Steve sighs. “The whole process is such a pain. Sooner or later I'm going to break down and order everything else from Ikea, just to get it over with.”

“Nah, you're stubborn,” Tony says. “You'll stick it out. If you ever do find yourself confronted with either flat-packed furniture or actual carpentry projects, though, you know who you want to talk to.” He whistles and waves to Dr. Barton, sharing a joke on the far side of the room with Dr. Romanova and undergraduate program director Maria Hill. “Hey Clint, you in the mood for an Allen key party?”

Barton frowns and apologizes to Romanova and Hill then makes his way across the room, bobbing his head and muttering something repetitive as he does. When he gets closer the sound resolves into a low stream of “boots and cats” with the weight on the first and third syllables, shaping a fair approximation of a techno beat. “Party, what?”

“Steve's thinking of hosting an Ikea assembly spree-day,” Tony tells him.

“Um,” Steve protests, but Barton's eyes have widened happily.

“Oh, sure! I love pegging.”

Coulson, standing nearby at the table, nonuple-checking the Powerpoint presentation he's about to give the new students, raises his head and frowns at Barton. “You're just not allowed to talk anymore.”

“Not now, sweetie, we're in public,” Barton smiles and turns back to Steve, Tony, and Banner. “Also screwing, banging, hammering, nailing—”

“Pounding,” Tony contributes. “Inserting.”

“Stapling?” Barton hazards with a frown, then looks at Steve. “Just give me a where and a when. We'll make this happen.”

Tony clucks his tongue. “Damnit, now I've got that Jonathan Coulton song stuck in my head.”

“Who?” Steve asks. 

“Jonathan Coulton,” Barton says. “You know, 'Ikeeea, just some oak and some pine and a handful of Norsemen; Ikeeea, selling furniture to college kids and divorced men'.”

Steve laughs, amused as much by the student behind him cheering for Barton's impromptu performance as by the song itself. “Never heard it before.”

“You're missing out,” Tony tells him, and Banner nods agreement.

“He's got some clever ones.”

Tony snickers and launches into a demonstration. “'It's the first of May, first of May, outdoor fucking starts today, so bring your favourite lady or at least your favourite lay . . . Water's not cold, baby dip in your big toe, maybe I'll see you in flagrante delicto; grass below you, sky above, celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called . . .'”

He cuts off at a loud “Ahem”, turning quickly, and Steve blushes he sees Dr. Fury watching them with his arms crossed. “Looks like Dr. Coulson's about ready to start with the introductions, if you four don't mind terminating this little jam session.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony says, mollified, swiping another handful of kale chips on his way to pull up a seat at the conference table.

Fury smirks and watches him leave before leaning over and murmuring to Steve, “I'm partial to 'Skullcrusher Mountain', myself.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those unfamiliar with Jonathan Coulton, his website is [here](http://www.jonathancoulton.com/), and the songs referenced in this story ("[Ikea](http://youtu.be/IUPu_ipbVB0)", "[First of May](http://youtu.be/gRhPeJ3uzOc)", and "[Skullcrusher Mountain]()") are all available there as free downloads.


End file.
